


Quite Straightforward (In Her Contracts and Her Deals)

by clutzycricket



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Crossover, F/M, Gen, Marriage Law Challenge, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 10:25:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5087023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clutzycricket/pseuds/clutzycricket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had fought against Riddle and those who had tried to harm them in smaller ways- Joffrey, Umbridge, Ramsey, and so many.</p><p>But when Rhaenys Targaryen storms into Alys Ruthermont's office, they all decide that they can't allow the screw-ups of the last war to happen again.</p><p>(Or, a Little Earthquakes Marriage Law AU ficlet.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quite Straightforward (In Her Contracts and Her Deals)

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Tori Amos' "Trouble's Lament".

1.)

Alys Ruthermont was looking as though something foul had stepped into her office.

Rhaenys Targaryen was deciding exactly how to behave- she wanted to try to behave, but keeping her mouth shut had never been her strong suit. It had led to a lot of fights, some magical experimentation, and a scar down her side. “Why the hell was I given this thrice damned bit of inanity?” 

Yup, this was going to end well.

“I thought you were a witch,” Alys said, her former yearmate full of faux innocence. She was one of the girls in Emma Vanity’s circle who had conspired to half-kill her.

“I left the Wizarding World when I was fifteen,” she said, wondering exactly how to best make her point. “I left, to be precise, because despite what the Headmaster, my father, and I said, no one else seemed to think I was a witch, and there was an alarming amount of blood-purity based assault happening, despite Riddle being thrown out of his body. Anything interactions have been followed to the letter as a charmswitch, nothing more, and if you try to poke further, I would  _love_  to see how you are planning on forcing the issue.” 

“Anyone who was enrolled in Hogwarts or a proper wizarding school and is a resident of the British Ministry’s purview is enrolled,” Alys said.

Rhaenys stared. “…Minus the Azkaban residents, right? Please tell me that you were not that dumb? I mean, you can be, I am fully aware of that, but…”

“They are granted an extension for the length of their stay,” Alys said, smile strained. 

“…There are going to be _riots_ ,” she told Willas later, hands flapping. “You realize that? The Ministry keeps fucking up, and they keep pushing people out, now they are looking around, and realizing that they lost too many people who know which end of a wand goes where, and now they pushed out Kingsley and are trying to keep everyone else gagged.”

“And not in the fun way,” Willas agreed, trying to get her to lighten up. “Seriously, I wonder if Umbridge drafted this, before she was arrested. Seems like the dodgy romance novel ideas she might have read in secret.”

Rhaenys gave him a skeptical look. “I don’t think even… okay, those are mostly male sci-fi that are really that weird with regard to sex. Though hey, no altar sex. Just forced marriages. Which… they do realize gay wizards exist?”

Willas shrugged. She hoped he, Uncle Oberyn, and Aunt Ellaria sorted something out. Well, she thought, Willas was a pureblooded wizard who got to do the offering, so he could wait. “Is there anyone who could help you?”

She sighed.

2.)

Sansa had looked at the mountain of letters in growing horror. “Arya, what do I  _do_?”

“Kill them all?” Arya suggested, looking at the pile. None of them were Trys’ orange envelope or Ned’s silver wax, anyway.

Sansa glared at her. “Not even Harry could get me out of that, Arya.”

Arya shrugged. “The Targaryens used to take multiple brides- maybe you can see how they used their marriage traditions?”

Sansa blushed horribly, and Arya wondered how subtle Sansa thought she had been. 

Elia Martell had been happy enough for them to come into Dragonstone, which was still partially running as a shelter. Tormund Giantsbane was leading a defense class for some young witches, and Arya sat and watched while Sansa went to the library.

“Right,” Sansa said, two hours later and looking relieved. “We can do this. I just have to… explain it to them.”

Arya raised an eyebrow. 

The ceremony was at Winterfell, with Bran and Arya and the Martells, Allyria’s presence felt in the morning glories Ned had woven into Sansa’s hair even if the woman herself was still in Boston. Arya had agreed to wear the dress Sansa had picked out for her, which was simple and blue and not horrible. 

Sansa looked pale as she slid the knife over her arm, but Trys’ smile seemed to steady her a bit, and Ned was close enough she might have been leaning on him.

The committee couldn’t find a way to tear apart the wedding, which was the first big scandal of the laws. But Sansa looked content and serene as she was spun between Ned and Trys on the photo that was on the front page of the _Prophet_ , so that might have backfired on whoever wanted to shame her.

3.)

The  _Quibbler_  was running a series of articles on the unfairness of the new marriage laws, much to Jeyne Westerling-Stark’s amusement.

Not that her Mother let her read the Quibbler, but her sister would occasionally slip them to her. After Robb was murdered, Jeyne was kept under lock and key. 

She paced her room, wondering if her Mother was tendoering offers for her- the scandalous widow of a Stark, a half-trained healer, but her father’s name was old and made up for a cryptid grandmother.

There was a noise at her window, and she turned, seeing a spray of gravel hit it.

She opened her window, seeing Quentyn Martell looking up.

“Hello, Jeyne,” he said, looking awkward. “I’d ask how you’re doing, but…” he stopped to blush and she waited. The charmswitch boy had been a friend when they were all fighting, and she had wondered if he tried to contact her.

“I’ve been locked up until I come to my senses,” she said, propping her elbows on the sill.

“That’s horrible,” he said. “Want to run away?”

“There is still that law,” she said, before remembering that Quentyn’s mother lived in France. Maybe…

“We’ll deal with it as it comes,” Quentyn said, smiling shyly. “But I don’t think you are the sort to like a cage.”

She pulled a few things into a bag and went to scramble down the ivy.

4.)

The priest was a kindly sort, but he was a bit frazzled by the sheer amount of very strange people eloping through his church.

(And they were eloping- they had that furtive, laughing air that made elopements distinct. There was also a distinct lack of witnesses.)

The latest was a handsome man of thirty or so with a doe eyed young woman clinging to his arm, with four very different young people as his witnesses. 

“Better me than most of the people your half-brothers could come up with,” the man- Edmure Tully- said reassuringly. 

The woman looked up at him with worried eyes. “But when they find out…”

“We’ll deal with that when it comes,” he said, kissing the top of her head.

“It’s not like the committee is actually being above board and honest with their paperwork on who is applying for who’s hand,” the younger woman muttered.

“Arya,” the redheaded woman said warningly. 

“I’m just saying,” Arya said. “They’re accepting bribes for specific spouses. It’s why Rhaenys said people should just elope.”

“Yeah, that’s going to bite her,” the blonde young man said.

“It always does,” the dark man said, fondly. “She bites harder.”

5.)

It took a month before an offer was made for Rhaenys, who read the rather insulting message, burned it, and sipped her hot chocolate.

She debated fighting- she hated it, and she could run verbal rings around them all. 

Because her elopement option had died early in the war, and being her own stubborn self, she’d never told anyone.

Of course, she had still wondered, and had been researching, so she was currently finishing her plan, admitting this was perhaps an overreaction. Slipping out to another country was much more sensible.

But she wasn’t leaving Mum. So, she turned to Bloodraven’s journals again.

She put down the chocolate and set to painting the last set of runes, made of her blood, crushed mirror, and dragonscale, among other things.

She finished with a feeling of drained energy, focusing on who she wanted, familiar grey eyes and a manic grin daring her to do it, just a little further…

She had her eyes closed with exhaustion when it worked, the smell of the burnt and flaking runes combining with sweat and the soap she’d bought for him, his weight on hers, and she sighed.

“Firecracker?” he murmured, sounding as tired as she did. “What happened?”

“It’s a long story,” she said, forcing her eyes opened. He was unchanged, and she checked him over for curses, thanking the river Bellatrix wasn’t much for subtle. She cancelled the blood freezing charm, her knees about to give out. 

“Let’s sleep first,” Sirius said, and she laughed into his shoulder.

“Good plan,” she said, letting him lead her to the couch. She’d have to plane the doorway later, and tell him everything that happened over the last four years.

But that was later. For now, she could just be content.


End file.
